Regrets
by seaweedfma
Summary: Roy had many regrets in his life. The death of his lover brought them into sharp focus. Anime based, set after Episode 25 in the original anime. Spoilers, of course. Rated T for safety. Roy x Hughes. Written out of order, so they jump around a little.
1. Mind Games

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist  
Title: Mind Games (Regrets- Part 1 of 5)  
Author: SeaweedOtter  
Pairing: Roy Mustang x Maes Hughes (and implied Maes x Gracia of course)  
Rating: PG-13 for language and some sexual innuendo  
Disclaimer: It takes place right at the INFAMOUS episode 25 of the anime. The characters aren't mine.

**

It is rather funny, how the mind can play tricks on a person. One minute, you have your best friend there beside you, drinking and talking about work, while the alcohol in front of you shows that it is clearly work that you are trying to get away from, stop thinking about. The next minute you are watching his casket being lowered into the ground and men who you have never met, and will never meet again, (you hope) shoveling dirt over his corpse. His wife is trying to tell his daughter how daddy won't be coming back this time. You try not to cry yourself. You have to be the good little wooden solider, the loyal dog of the military, willing to be kicked around like the cur that you are.

And yet, I saw his body. I had to be the one to identify him at the morgue. His wife simply couldn't do it, and as the next highest ranking officer, it fell to me to complete this grim task. It was cold down there, and it smelt- not of death, but of  
science and medicine, of chemicals and unguents. Row after row of cabinets on the wall, looking like polished, sterile, gleaming silver file cabinets built in to every nook and cranny of the room, each holding a father, a brother, a lover.

The person who worked down there looked like he should have been in one of those file cabinets of death. He was gaunt and pale. It looked like he had never been outside that room. His skin seemed to be stretched so tight, it was going to tear apart at any moment. He was frail and fragile, and breakable.

Which was exactly how I felt.

It seemed to take hours for that damn walking dead corpse to finally get to the right cabinet. A-35. I will never forget that number as long as I live. It will be permanently tattooed into my brain, in my subconscious for the rest of my life. It seemed so unfair. Once these people were vibrant human beings, and now they were just a file cabinet number. I guess I was glad that I didn't believe in God then, because that seemed the cruelest joke He could play on a human, ultimately taking away their  
humanity and merely giving them a number. Where is the "equivalent exchange" in that?

In his dull droll of a voice, fitting for a person who looked like he should be interned there, not working there, he asked if I was ready, and told me to stand back and prepare. I wasn't really sure what he meant. Having survived the Ishbal Rebellion, I had seen people die. Fuck, I had caused many of them to die. I saw soldiers and civilians die in my arms. What the fuck did he think I wasn't prepared for?

But I wasn't prepared for it.

He pulled the file cabinet out, and there he was. Maes Hughes. Doting father, loving husband, secret lover. Someone had thoughtfully put his glasses back on his face, but it made him look even more ridiculous, as they were broken, with glass missing and a bent frame. It was all I could do not to laugh and cry at same time, just at the sheer absurdness of it all.

He had seemed so peaceful lying on that slab of polished metal. For a moment my mind told me to get him a blanket, that table must be cold. And once again I had to tell myself that it didn't fucking matter how cold he was now. A flash of embarrassment  
went thru me as I gave him a look over. I realized that he was naked, covered from the stomach down with a sterile white sheet. I could see all his curves, the same curves I had seen and touched and kissed just days before. I had seen him naked before, under a white sheet, but never like this. I wanted to cry out, to beat at his chest until he woke up, or stroke his hair and give him a light kiss on the forehead, like I used to while he was sleeping, after a hot and steamy night of making love. The white sheets would be the only thing covering our sweaty, naked bodies.

I guess now that I think of it, the dead body that was working at the morgue was polite and gave me time to gather my thoughts, and give my former fellow soldier and lover a once over. I am grateful for that now. He could have rushed me along and gone onto the next stiff, but he really seemed to want to give me time to digest what was happening, what I was seeing in front of me.

It took every ounce of my strength, mentally and physically, to look down at him again. He had a minor wound on his shoulder, it looked like a knife or a bullet had grazed him a couple of times. But the fatal wound was right above where the sheet  
started, a bullet wound right in the gut. It was right about the same place where I shot those doctors. The higher ups didn't want it to look like it was a State Alchemist, so my flame was extinguished and I shot them. Right in the gut. I guess if  
there is a God, this is His way of torturing me. He sure waited long enough to do it, but it got the point across loud and clear.

"That... is him?" the dead body softly asked, almost apologetically. I am not sure if it was a reflex action on his part, just his way of putting on a facade of slight caring for the drones of people who come down here to collect their loved ones, or if he noticed that I was taking it harder than a solider should for his fellow officer. Either way, his face was as stoic as ever. I couldn't speak, I just nodded softly. And as quickly as it started, with a loud BANG when the file cabinet closed, it was over. He was hidden from view again, never to be seen by anyone but the dead body standing in front of me, with a grim but almost sad look on his face.

"T-t-thank you." I hoarsely whispered. He nodded and gave a little smile and motioned towards the door. I didn't hesitate for a second, wanting to put as much space between me and that awful place as I could. I wanted to snap my fingers and burn all my clothes off so I wouldn't have to wear the reminders of when I had to go identify my best friend and confidant. My rock, my salvation, my love.

Less than 10 minutes later I was in the shower, hot water coating my naked body, curled up in a fetal position, bawling my eyes out, crying for all the people who wouldn't, or couldn't. I knew I had a funeral to go to the next day, and I knew I  
wouldn't have the 'luxury' of crying then. I had to get it all out. I don't know how long I was in there. I must have blacked out or fallen asleep, because some time later the fact that the water had turned ice cold woke me back up.

I don't honestly remember crawling back to my bed, or how I was able to get up in time for the funeral, and put on my best State uniform and dress up like the pretty little wooden solider I was supposed to be. But I did. I had to look at Gracia, and wonder if she knew what her husband was doing those late nights he was 'working late at the office'. I visited her for a while, awkward, drawn out times where little was said. Eventually we drifted even further apart, if that was possible. I only visited her once a year, right around Christmas. It was a time that Maes had loved, he could use the excuse of the season to dote even more on his wife and child, and even on me.

So here I sit, the holidays have come and gone again. I have a roaring fireplace warming my skin in front of me, and a cold drink in my hand to dull the ache that comes around this time of year. And my mind plays tricks on me again. Every once in a  
while I swear that I hear his name on the wind, or see his shadow in the flickering firelight.

It is rather funny, how the mind can play tricks on a person.


	2. Regrets

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist  
Title: Regrets (Regrets- Part 2 of 5)  
Author: SeaweedOtter  
Characters: Roy Mustang x Maes Hughes  
Rating: PG-13 for some light sexual content  
Disclaimer: Set around Episode 25. The last time Roy talked to Hughes, got angry and slammed the phone. There was no way he could tell him goodbye.  
Copyrights: I don't own the characters, of course.

**

'...Find yourself a wife!' he had said, and without another word Roy slammed down the phone. 'What an idiot.' he remembered thinking right after throwing the phone back on the hook.

He softly sighed and swirled the drink around in its glass before taking a long drag. It burnt less going down than the 3 or 4 glasses that he had drank before this one. He softly shivered, and put the drink down at the bar, and motioned for the bartender to fill it up again.

There was a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that this wasn't the best thing to do, seeing as the funeral was tomorrow, and he knew that he had to get up early to get ready. But the pain was too much, and when the drink was refilled he went to it with the same swiftness that he had with the ones before.

The last thing he had ever done to his friend, his lover, was throw down the phone at him, annoyed at yet another one of the times that he was doting on his wife and child. Roy knew that part of the reason Maes did it was to make sure people didn't find out about their forbidden love. But he also knew that Maes loved to egg him on, to remind him that he had a wife and child, while the bachelor colonel had a lot of girlfriends and one secret lover, but not one person who he could spend the rest of his life with. He made sure that Roy never forgot that.

He took a long draught on the drink, that strangely didn't really burn any more. He had lost count of how many drinks he had that night, but no matter what, the ache in his heart was still just as painful as it was before. It made his breath short, felt like someone was sitting on his chest and trying to squeeze the life out of him.

Never again would he feel the warmth of Maes' kiss against his lips, or the strength of his arms when he held the colonel tight. He would never again get to tell Maes that he loved him, or that he missed him on the many nights that he would sleep next to that lucky bastard of a wife of his. He didn't hate Gracia, but there were time when he saw her and could think of nothing but how jealous he was of her and her husband.

He had never thought that there would be a time he would have to live without Maes Hughes. He always thought he would be the one to die first, probably not long after attaining the rank of Fuhrer, if he ever got there at all. How could the big goofball of an office worker die before him? It just made no sense at all. He had never thought that he would have to worry about the last thing he ever said to his friend, his subordinate, his lover. And now he had the rest of his life, however long that was going to be, to think about that the last sound his lover ever heard from him. The sound of the telephone being slammed back down.

There was not enough drink in the world to ever make him forget that. And he didn't want to ever forget that. It was his sin, his burden to bear, for the rest of life, the life that he seemed to be destined to spend alone.


	3. Dressing Down

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist  
Title: Dressing Down (Regrets- Part 3 of 5)  
Author: SeaweedOtter  
Pairing: Roy Mustang x Maes Hughes (mostly inferred)  
Rating: PG-13 for slight sexual overtones  
Disclaimer: Set at the end of Episode 25, right before the funeral for Hughes. I don't own the characters.

**

The alarm woke the man, even though he really hadn't slept at all the night before. He blinked a couple of times, letting his eyes adjust to the light. His head throbbed from his drinking the night before. As much as he had tried, he hadn't been able to get his mind off of Maes Hughes. Even drinking only made the pain worse. At least it was this morning. He took a couple of deep breaths and sat up in bed. Groggily, he looked out the window with his bloodshot eyes. The sunrise was just starting to peek over the horizon, bathing everything in an orange-red glow. It was almost pretty.

Almost.

With a deep sigh, he remembered why he had to get up at this God-forsaken hour. He rubbed his fingers thru his stringy black hair, laying askew at every angle imaginable. Against his wishes, he sat up and rubbed his aching eyes. He stood up, a little dizzy at first, he put his hand back on the warm bed to steady himself.

"This is where we slept." he mumbled, sighing again. "God, what I wouldn't give to be there again." He shook his head softly. "God has nothing to do with this." He added, with firmness, and a regret.

Shakily, he headed over to the bathroom, where he relieved himself, then stripped off his wrinkled sleeping clothes and stepped into the shower. As soon as the hot water hit him, a tiny bit of his stress lifted. His nose, stuffy from the last couple of days of crying by himself, cleared. The ache in the back of his eyes lightened slightly. For just a brief moment, he felt just a little bit better. Inevitably, his mind started to wander as he took a washcloth and started to lather and clean himself. "There was never enough room for both of us here" he said to nobody. "But we always made the room somehow." That brought a sad smile to his face, remembering the times that they had had together. There was a soft sniffle as a few salty tears mixed with the swirling water at his feet. He wanted to curl up in the shower and let everything go down the drain. It felt like his life already had.

He lingered in the shower as long as he could, until the entire room was bathed in a thin fog, and the hot shower turned into a lukewarm one. Softly he sighed and reluctantly turned the water off, wrapping a towel around his thin waist and stepping into the still well warmed room. Still dripping wet, he stood in front of the foggy mirror and readied his razor for his normal morning shaving routine. Softly he rubbed his bristly whiskers. They had grown out  
over the last few days, making him rather ragged and haggard, which was just how he felt. He thought about not bothering to even shave, but he quickly thought better of that. "He deserves my best, or at least the best of what is left of me." he grumbled.

His hand shook, and more than once he had to dab blood off the side of his face. But eventually the deed was done, and his face returned to its normal, soft look. Roy winced a little as he splashed some alcohol based aftershave on his face, the little cuts hotly stinging him. He was so numb, it didn't even seem to hurt as much as usual, though. Nothing could possibly hurt as much as what happened a few brief days ago.

He glanced down at his watch. It was 7:45. He needed to be out of his apartment by 8:15 to make it down to the cemetery by 8:30. Roy sighed again as he ran a brush thru his jet black hair. even with his wet hair, it didn't want to cooperate, and stuck at odd angles off his head. "Well, at least my hat will hide most of this." he tried to joke, but even he didn't find his own joke very funny.

He knew even though he was well dried off from the shower, the bedroom would be cold- in more ways than one. He tried to rationalize, to find a way to not have to go in there. Every moment that clicked by, every step he took, led him closer and closer to the inevitable time where he would have to face his feelings, and face his lover's family.

The blast of cool air that hit him when he opened the door to the bedroom shook any lingering thoughts of sleepiness from his head. He shivered once, then threw his towel onto the bed and walked over to his closet. He looked at the dark blue outfit hanging separate from the rest of his sparse clothing. Roy would have given anything to not have to put this on, but he knew all the procrastination in the world wouldn't stop the inevitable outcome. He sighed softly and took his suit out of the closet and off the hangar, laying it softly on the bed.

Slowly, methodically- like he usually does things- he put on a pair of boxers, then the military issued blue pants and tails. They fit him looser than they had in the recent past. He honestly didn't remember when his last meal was, or even what it had been. What had been keeping him going this past week? he wondered to himself. He guessed it was the sheer determination to not let his best friend's death go in vain and continue his march towards the top.

He put on his periwinkle blue shirt and tucked it into the pants, then on went the blue dress jacket. After he buttoned it up, he sighed and looked at the black sash that was still staring at him, laying on the crumpled sheets. It was the sash that was worn for a fallen solider.

Why, why did he have to die? Why did he have to be so fucking smart and figure out what was happening with the corruption in the government? And what was it that he had found out? He shook his head and slowly lowered the sash over his shoulder. His throat tightened and his eyes moistened. It was hard to breathe. He cleared his throat, trying as best he could to compose what was left of himself. As he straightened out the sash, and put his rarely used hat on top of his still slightly unruly hair, his mind inevitably wandered back to the last night they had spent together.

It had unfortunately been a rather hasty affair, since Roy had one of his many dinner meetings with the higher ups. As much as he hated it, he knew that he had a lot of ass to kiss if he wanted to continue to move up towards his ultimate goal. And Maes had agreed that he needed to go, since he was determined to help his friend get there.

They hadn't had time to do much that night, kissing, groping, desperately holding each other, not wanting to let go, but knowing that they had to. When Roy had left his house, leaving Maes behind to clean up, he never thought that would be the last night of pleasure that they would have spent together. If he had known, he would have forgotten about that damn meeting, which had been terribly boring anyways, and spent the whole night with his lover. He sighed.

Hindsight was always 20/20, and there was no way he could have known. But that didn't make him feel any less guilty. He was gone, and nothing was ever going to change that.

He turned on his heels, spinning on the back of his feet and clicking his heels together. His mind was already getting into stoic soldier mode, like second nature. It scared him a little, his brain was reverting back to his wooden soldier form. The wall was forming, a wall that he knew that he was going to need thru the ceremony. It was a wall that he had formed many times in his life. He had already cried enough for himself. He needed to let others cry now. It was time to become the good little wooden solider of the military.

He gathered his military issue blue coat and headed towards the door. He didn't want to open the door and let the outside in. He just wanted to stay inside for a lifetime or two, and just remember the man that he loved. He softly sighed and got right to the door, his hand mere inches away from opening the handle, when there was a knock. he opened the door to see Havoc, in his Dress Blues and black sash, the car idling down the stairs at the edge of the road. He had his customary cigarette, but it wasnt lit. He didn't look like he had gotten thru the morning without shedding tears as well, his eyes were puffy and slightly bloodshot.

"You ready, chief?" He tried to flash a smile, but both of them could see how fake it really was. Roy just nodded and softly walked past the slightly taller man, towards the back seat. Normally he would have taken the passenger side and talk with his Lieutenant, but today, neither were in the mood to say much of anything. Havoc climbed in the driver's seat, and they were off.

Roy's mind wandered back to Maes and their lasts night together again on the short drive, and all of a sudden he thought that maybe talking wouldn't have been too bad. But it was too late. As soon as it started, it was over. They were there.

"Alright chief. Let's get this over with." For a brief second, the Flame Alchemist fumed at Havoc. Was this an inconvenience with him? Did he really not want to be here for his commanding officer? But the more the thought about it, the more he understood what Havoc had meant. He wouldn't ever forget Maes, but they had their own ways of grieving, and they would both rather do it in private.

Quietly, Roy got out of the car and followed Havoc up the little hill into the graveyard. Hawkeye was hanging back from the group a little. As usual, she was beautiful, he noticed, even though her eyes were red and freshly moist. He put a hand softly on her shoulder.

"I am sorry, Riza." His voice was broken and low, not the cocky, arrrogant young colonel, but a broken old man with an extinguished flame.

"I know, Roy. I.... worry about you. Are you going to be okay?"

"I will, Riza. I will." But neither of them really believed it.


	4. Click

Name: Click (Regrets- Part 4 of 5)  
Author: SeaweedOtter  
Pairing: Roy x Hughes (and of course implied Maes x Gracia)  
Rating: PG for a little language and implied violence.  
Spoilers: Set after the end of the TV series (avoiding the movie), around 1920 or so. (around 35 years old)  
Beta: None  
Disclamers: The characters are obviously not copyright me.

**

Click.

The clock ticked off another minute, one of the thousands that had gone by since Maes Hughes had died.

Another Christmas had come, another year that his lover was not here.

It had been.. what... 5 years now? He thought that time would make the wounds heal, make the pain go away. But it only seemed to be getting worse. The aching hole in his heart grew with each birthday that passed, with each Christmas and Valentine's Day that he wasnt able to share with his lover.

As he did every year, on the day before Christmas, he visited Gracia and Elysia. Small wrinkles were starting to seep into Gracia's face. A few stray gray hairs were sneaking in as well. He wasn't sure if that was age, or stress. Elysia was getting nice and tall, like her dad. She was taller than all the other 8 year olds in her class. She had his eyes, but mostly she was all her mother, which may have made it easier for Gracia to look at her every day. He was glad for that, it would have been torture for the poor woman to have to look at Maes every day for the rest of her life.

The meeting that day had been a rather awkward affair. He had always guessed that she had known about himself and Maes. But in the years after his death, they had met many times, yet talked very little. And they had never brought up the relationship that the two men had, whether it be it friendship or otherwise. Today has been no different. Elysia was busy over at a friend's house for a while, and Gracia had poured an elegant tea with some little cakes for them to munch on. Not a single cake left the tray. Neither of them were hungry much around this time of year. They were empty with something that nothing physical could ever fill.

After the tea was over, Gracia got up and put some logs in the fireplace. She looked rather awkwardly at her visitor, slightly annoyed that she had to ask for help, and slightly embarrassed for the same reason. "Could you...um, give me a hand, please?" she asked him.

"Oh, okay. I am sorry. I was just.... thinking." He snapped out of his daze, not really having heard the question, but when he saw her kneeling down by the fireplace, he realized what she wanted. He got up from the chair with a groan. He tried to forget how the cold affects his numerous old injuries, but they don't let him forget for long. Joints creaked and popped as he kneeled down beside her and raised his hand. *SNAP*! a burst of fire exploded from the ignition cloth and lept down into the dry tinder, setting it aflame and causing Gracia to reel back at the sudden heat.

He looked at her, a sad look to his almond shaped eyes. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. It is just.. well... I don't use my flame much any more. It is hard to control it if you don't constantly practice. I apologize." He stood up, then bowed down to the woman who was still kneeling, warming her hands on the  
now crackling fire. "I think I better get going, but I appreciate your company, and your tea." He bowed again. Gracia started to get up, and he gently laid a gloved hand on her shoulder. "It is okay, Gracia. I know the way out." He forced a warm smile to his face, and she reciprocated. He turned around and walked to the door.

He hesitated, just for a moment there, and looked back at Gracia. He had never really noticed how pretty she actually was. It seemed like he had always seen her as a rival. He didn't hate her, but he was very jealous of her because she was the one who had ended up with Maes and not him. Of course he knew that even if for some odd reason he had been the one to end up with Maes, no one would have been able to know anyway. Men who liked other men could be ostracized at best, and at at worst..

He just shuddered, not wanting to finish that thought.

It wasn't a long walk back to his house, though the howling wind and blowing cold made it an even more miserable trip than it would have been otherwise. He was very glad when he finally saw his little brick abode come into view, and he quickened his steps to get back to the warmth, and emptiness of his house.

That last thought made him slow his steps once again.

His fingers, frozen even inside his gloves, fumbled with the key. He finally got it open and quickly shut out the cold behind him. But it wasn't a warm house to come into. He hadn't bothered to put up any sort of Christmas decorations, save a very small tree he downed from his spacious backyard, which had only a couple of sparse decorations on it, and two stockings hung on his fireplace.

A long sigh escaped his lips as he looked at the two stockings. He really didn't know why he bothered to put them up every year. Something just.. compelled him to do it, like Maes would wave wanted him to or something ridiculous like that. He kneeled down at the fireplace, with the already well charred logs inside, and once again snapped his fingers. it came a little easier this time, he could control it a bit better, and it made the leap this time right to the wood, where it started to crackle and groan with the heat right away.

He stood back up, not even bothering to take off his snow-laden coat and boots, and went to his liquor cabinet. It was looking a bit empty, and he figured that was rather appropriate with the way he was feeling right now. The holiday season always put a major dent in his liquor supply, and it usually took him half of the next year to stock it back up again. But right now he didn't really care. he grabbed an old dusty bottle of scotch. Eagerly he popped off the top and started to pull the strong smelling liquid to his lips when he noticed out of the corner of his eye something that almost made him drop the rather expensive bottle.

The date. It was scotch from 1885.

That was the same year he was born. It was the same year... his lover had been born as well.

Even though Maes was a few months older than him, as well as a few inches taller, he had always been the more serious of the two. He was always one to study harder at the academy, and he was always the one, though he procrastinated as much as he could, to get the job done right the first time, no matter what that job was.

His hand shook, and somehow he just couldn't will himself to move that scotch up to his mouth.. It reminded him of Maes, even though he had hated alcohol and was always pissed off when he had too much to drink. With a shaky hand, he put the stopper back in the bottle and put it back into the cabinet. He grabbed a shot glass and a cheap bottle of whiskey instead, and poured. He poured, and drank, and poured again, hoping the drink would take the pain away. He started to cry as he drank, not for any reason in particular, but for them all. Tears stained his cheeks and ran down his round face, soaking into the already snow dampened State blue jacket that he still wore. He bit his lip, still trying to force the pain to go elsewhere. He felt the copper bitterness of his own blood in his mouth and over his tongue, but he didn't care.

He just kept drinking, each shot of liquor taking away more inhibitions, breaking down more walls that he had built up to not care about anyone else ever again, including himself. With each wall that came down he cried more, until he literally had no more tears to cry. The bottle was empty and he dropped it to the floor with a satisfying clink.

"Merry Christmas, my love." He sniffled, staring into the fire and now fingering a small revolver in his right hand. "I hope I will be with you soon."

Click.


	5. Many Meetings

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist  
Title: Many Meetings (Regrets- Part 5 of 5)  
Author/Artist: SeaweedOtter  
Characters: Roy Mustang x Maes Hughes  
Rating: PG for some bad words  
Disclaimer: Set around Episode 25. The last time Roy talked to Hughes, got angry and slammed the phone. There was no way he could tell him goodbye.  
Copyrights: I don't own the characters, of course.

**

There was a bright light. Everything was blinding white at first, and he reflexively squinted his eyes.

Wait... Eyes? He blinked. Once, then twice. He could feel them both blinking. Two perfectly good eyes. He ran a hand over his face. Gone were the scars from years of being a dog of the military. They were soft and smooth. No longer were his thumb  
and first finger calloused and charred from countless snaps of his fingers that sent hundreds of people to their graves.

Things started to come into focus. It was still bright white, but he started to make out shapes. There were blobs at first, then, slowly, colors came into view. Red and white, and that distinctive gold-green that he had known so well.

Known so well from where?

Gold-green.

The color... of *HIS* eyes.

He tried to open his mouth but nothing came out. The form in front of him was just starting to come into focus. Just in time for him to see a fist closing the distance to his face.

"You....... IDIOT!!"

*SMACK*!

He felt it, his body jerked and reacted to it, but it didn't hurt.

"What the-"

He didn't even have time to finish what he was going to say, when two long arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. He knew that smell. That touch. That voice.

"M-m-m-Maes?" His voice was soft and hoarse at first.

He felt the head buried on his shoulder. He felt the slight scruff of the beard that had always been there. They stood there, for a while, not even looking at each other, just shedding little tears of joy. As soon as Roy came to his senses and figured out that they were two men who were embracing each other, a flush of embarrassment came to his cheeks and he broke away from the hug. Quickly he looked around, scared for a moment that someone would see them, or worse- come after them. Grown men just didn't hold each other like that.

"It is okay, Roy. Where we are, it doesn't matter." Maes, as usual, was smart enough to know what had bothered Roy all of a sudden. As Roy looked around, he still didn't see much more than bright whiteness, although he noticed now that Maes was wearing a very handsome looking pinkish red shirt with a white jacket over it, and white pants. He even had his glasses on, although they looked like there were more there as a force of habit.

Maes pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I don't need em. But I just got so damn used to them. I feel naked if they aren't there."

A shiver ran thru Roy's spine. Naked. Oh whomever the merciful overseer was, he missed seeing his lover naked. No sooner had that thought finished going through his head then he noticed that Maes had a huge smile on his face. It was a very mischievous smile, like he had read exactly what Roy had been thinking.

"I am sure that brought some nice thoughts to your brain, didn't it?" He gave Roy a little wink, which only made him blush harder. He wondered for a second if he could create flames here and give Maes a little singe as payback. But.. where was here?

"Where.. where am I?" Roy asked, his voice still weak.

"Where do you think, you goof?"

"I.. don't know. I didn't believe in God, or in Heaven. So I certainly don't deserve to go there, if that is where I am." Roy couldn't imagine that this would be anywhere else. Or maybe he was going to have Maes taken away from him again, and this was just a cleverly disguised Hell. He wouldn't rule that possibility out yet.

"Well, it isn't Hell, if that is what you are worried about," seemingly reading Roy's mind for the third time. "But why, Roy? Why did you do it? You were gonna be Fuhrer, ya know."

"Why did I do it?" Roy's voice got stronger with every word. "Why? You should know why, you idiot! I missed you, dammit. I fucking missed you! I couldn't hear your voice, or smell that silly aftershave you always wore, or feel that beard you never  
let grow in! Why the hell do you think I did it!" Roy grabbed Maes' shirt and shook him a little, tears welling in his eyes.

He finally let go and buried his head in Maes' chest, balling up his fists and soaking his pink shirt with tears.

Maes didn't say anything for a while. He just let Roy cry. He was crying for years that he had never been able to, and it took quite a while for him to get all of those long pent up emotions out. Maes simply held him close, wrapping his arms around him again and gently pressing him close to his body.

"Shhhh. It will be alright" Maes said in a soothing, almost fatherly tone, while softly rubbing Roy's back with the flat of his hand in little circles. "We have an eternity together. Take your time. This place takes some getting used to."

Roy finally looked back up to his one time lover, his eyes red and tear stained. "An eternity? But... Gracia.." He was already thinking of the future, whenever it was going to be, that Gracia slipped from the mortal coil. And he guessed that she would join her husband in wherever they were now.

"When it comes to her time, she will be here. But I will be here as well, as will you. And there will be no jealousy, no hatred, just love, and togetherness." It was a rather cryptic answer from a normally straightforward man, and it confused Roy for a bit. It would be hell if he had to lose Maes again. He couldn't bear to do it. Maes seemed to sense the confusion, yet again. "Just believe me when I say that neither of you shall want for love or attention. " Roy didn't understand, but for some reason, he did believe him.

"I noticed where you shot yourself." Maes turned serious for the first time. "Right in the gut. Right where... I had been shot." He bowed his head, and had to push his glasses up on his nose again to stop them from falling. "You didn't know this, but Hawkeye found you. She was worried when you hadn't come into work the next day. You hadn't done a very good job trying to kill yourself, and you lingered, in and out of death for over a week. They all came to see you, Hawkeye, Breda, Havoc, Falman, Al, Szieska, even Winry. When you finally... died, it was a relief to them. They had seen how much you had suffered. You had been suffering for close to 20 years, ever since the Ishbal Rebellion. I saw it too, while I was down there. It had been slowly eating away at you, and when you finally passed on, you were at peace. They saw it in your face. They were sad, but they were very happy as well. I guess they knew you were coming up to meet me. "

Roy had been looking down at... well, it wasn't really ground, but whatever the whiteness was that they were standing on. He sniffled again. "I... missed you, Maes. I loved you the whole time, after you were gone. I was never with anyone else."

"I know. I guess you could tell by what I just said, that.. we can watch from up here. We don't feel pain, or regret, jealousy or hatred up here. But.. when you shot yourself.. I.. felt it. I don't know how, but I did. I... hurt."

They were silent for a minute more. "You are an idiot, you know." Maes said softly. "For killing yourself. Up here, we can see what may be. The future is always changing, but we can see the future as it is at the moment. And right before you killed yourself, you were going to be Fuhrer, and soon."

"Right now, I don't care. I am back, with you." He looked up at Maes, and saw the hurt in those gold-green eyes.

"Don't care? Isn't that what we both worked for? You wanted to be Fuhrer and I wanted to help. And now, that was all for nothing." He could see Maes starting to tear up again. But then, he got quiet. Maes looked like he was staring into the distance for a few moments, then he blinked and looked back at Roy.

"Hm, an interesting series of events, that." He said cryptically again. When Roy shot him a confused look, he pushed up his glasses and explained. "Well, since you died, Riza now wants to continue where you left off. I was looking forward a bit. The future looks good for Amestris, with their first ever woman Fuhrer, and an extended time of great peace. Perhaps we did get what we were searching for, just not in the way we expected. I have found that it works out that way a lot up here." He had that same smile that he had been wearing a few moments before.

"I love you, Maes."

"I love you too, Roy. And it doesn't matter up here. We have no one to hide from. We don't have to be scared of what people think, or worry about holding hands. You have nothing to worry about. I will always be here for you, my idiot."

They had all the time in eternity now. And as much as Roy's mind raced about what could be done now that he had been reunited with his lover, all the places he could kiss and explore, for some reason, he wasn't in any hurry. They just held each other  
for a while. And all that time, far away in Amestris, history was about to be made.


End file.
